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"Gadley, on his death-bed, has confessed that Moy and Proudfoot took that money, incited by Tom Vivian." Archie Douglas could not speak, but he turned his face towards Compton again, strode swiftly into the churchyard, and fell on his knees by his mother's grave. When at last he rose, he pointed to the new and as yet unmarked mound, and said, "Your mother's?" "Oh no! Raymond's!
No doubt the having done an injury to the Poynsett family had been the true secret of that enmity, more than political, which he had always shown to Raymond; and after thinking Gadley safer out of that office, and having yielded to his solicitations and set him up at the Three Pigeons, he had been almost compelled to bid for popularity by using his position as a magistrate to protect the blackguardism of the town.
Gadley would now and then plead. "We're all of us miserable sinners," my aunt would cheerfully affirm; "only we don't all get the same chances."
The freshness of her views on this, his favourite topic, always fascinated Mr. Gadley. "I have to thank you, ma'am," he would remark on rising, "for a most delightful conversation. I may not be able to agree with your conclusions, but they afford food for reflection." To which my aunt would reply, "I hate talking to any one who agrees with me.
Clerks, servants, poor relations, all had been treated with even-handed justice, while for those with claim upon him, ample provision had been made. Few wills, I think, could ever have been read less open to criticism. Old Gadley slipped his arm into mine as we left the house. "If you've nothing to do, young 'un," he said, "I'll get you to come with me to the office.
Barbara had gone abroad to put the finishing touches to her education to learn the tricks of the Nobs' trade, as old Hasluck phrased it; and I had left school and taken employment with Mr. Stillwood, without salary, the idea being that I should study for the law. "You are in luck's way, my boy, in luck's way," old Mr. Gadley had assured me.
"And, while I can, I've got something to tell you that will make it up to you, and a great deal more." "Make it up?" said Jenny, looking with bewildered eyes at the dear face. "Yes, I made Gadley consent. The Rector has it in writing, and it will do quite as well if I die. O, Jenny, woman, think of my never knowing what you had gone through!"
"What real gentleman, I should like to know, is going to marry the daughter of a City attorney? As I told him years ago, he ought to have retired and gone into the House." "The very thing your poor father used to talk of doing whenever things were going a bit queer in the retail coal and potato business," grunted old Gadley. Mrs.
In conformity with the old legal fashions that in his life he had so fondly clung to, his will was read aloud by Mr. Gadley after the return from the funeral, and many were the tears its recital called forth. Written years ago by himself and never altered, its quaint phraseology was full of kindly thought and expression. No one had been forgotten.
I have got all the keys in my pocket, and we shall be quiet. It will be sad work for me, and I had rather we were alone. A couple of hours will show us everything." We lighted the wax candles old Stillwood could never tolerate gas in his own room and opening the safe took out the heavy ledgers one by one, and from them Gadley dictated figures which I wrote down and added up.
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